Plume
by nationalemergency
Summary: Crowley is having a nice, relaxing time on a desert island. Well, he should be so lucky.


Still don't own Good Omens, but hey, I can dream.

It was around twenty years after Crowley had shattered an angel's (who he later found to be named Aziraphale) wings by trying to imitate a boa constrictor when he was in a human body. He had been skipping not only towns, but countries and continents ever since then, just in case. Angels were not generally vengeful, but there were a few head cases he could name and he didn't feel like running the risk.

Now though, he was seriously considering settling down, wherever he was at the moment had nice weather, nice beaches and some nice, uncomplicated people he could easily persuade to commit acts of minor evil. It was also a very isolated little island chain that nobody ever visited and no one would think to look for him on, but that was beside the point. It might not placate his bosses, who were getting antsy about the lack of catastrophes, but it was good enough for Crowley.

He reached down and picked up the tall, frosty drink that a few seconds ago had not been there and took a long sip while he surveyed his surroundings. Maybe a holiday was a good idea. He glanced down at the drink and frowned, suddenly there was something floating in it. He had felt compelled to put it there for a reason he didn't fully understand and now there was a tiny little paper and matchstick umbrella floating in his drink. He regarded it silently, liking how it looked and occasionally threatened to poke him in the eye as it bobbed up and down cheerily. If it made such a mundane task as drinking more difficult then it would probably work on humans. He made a mental note of the idea for later, but vanished the little umbrella.

Crowley fidgeted a bit and found he was unable to come up with an original idea for death and destruction, it just seemed like it had all been done before. _Oh well_, he thought; _time to go for the old classics_. He remembered the mountain behind him and began to think about its potential as a volcano. He turned around to get a closer look at the soon-to-be volcanic rock and came about as close to dying of fright as it is possible for a demon to get.

Sitting across from him was a worryingly familiar angel who was looking at him in what he probably imagined to be a collected way, but instead came across as nervous and a little like he'd been badly concussed. The angel was worryingly familiar, Crowley soon realised, because Crowley had been the one to violently maim him almost by accident. Not quite an accident, but close enough for Crowley to let it go, the angel though? Maybe not.

He remembered reading the Bible very briefly as a younger demon, using snake skin gloves and tweezers to very carefully lift the pages, looking for inspiration and a few tips so he could make a name for himself. To be honest he'd never gotten past Genesis because he'd been rather upset about his portrayal; he was never that dull. After that he'd skimmed through it looking for words like 'hellfire', 'sin', 'demon' and 'damnation' and actually ended up reading a surprising amount of it. Right now his brain was very helpfully supplying all the bits about smiting. He tried to think of something witty he could say to diffuse the situation.

"You look well."

Damn.

"Thank you." The angel replied, rather primly.

Holy hell.

"You look quite well yourself."

Crowley had to stop himself from choking.

The angel looked at him calmly and actually quite kindly.

_Oh_, thought Crowley, _here it comes._

"You do realise I'm not here to do anything… Unpleasant to you, don't you?"

_They aren't allowed to lie_, Crowley's (very prominent) lizard brain thought_, he must actually mean it._

"I mean I forgive you for… Well you probably remember. Unless you do that sort of thing all the time, I wouldn't know." The angel looked uncomfortable. Crowley did not know that angels could look uncomfortable.

"Um," Crowley let his forked tongue flicker out to wet his lips without really thinking about it, for some reason his mouth had gone dry.

"Yes," he said seriously, willing to give it a go, " Very often, I am a demon after all." Crowley tried to make himself look taller and show off some fang, hoping the angel might have some sort of self-preservation instinct.

"Really?" The angel sounded surprised. "I thought it was quite effective, but overall it came across as a bit, you know, desperate. I mean you are human-shaped aren't you? You're not secretly a python?" _He meant it as a joke; angels are not funny._

"Yes." Crowley said curtly.

"Oh," the angel sounded awkward again, that really put Crowley on edge "we have met before then."

"Have we?" Crowley replied, trying to sound only mildly interested.

"Yes," said the angel, "Eden, at the Eastern Gate, flaming sword, you were a black python weren't you?"

"Yes!" Crowley was actually pretty surprised.

The angel's face creased into a slight frown.

"Isn't that actually a type of cobra?"

Crowley waved a hand. "Semantics, its not important."

"Actually I think it's a zoological fact…"

"Why are you here?" Crowley interrupted him.

"Just to let you know that, well, all is forgiven. There is really no need to worry yourself over it."

Crowley stared at him, which works a great deal better when you don't have to blink.

The angel just fidgeted a little and said,

"Good bye then…"

And disappeared. Completely. Crowley stared a little longer, turned around and turned back, repeated that a couple of times until he just felt a but stupid really.

He moved off the island pretty soon after that and went back to the mainland. For some reason he never was able to make that mountain volcanic, but he had a pretty good idea why.

Paper umbrellas worked quite well though, Hell doesn't really hand out Commendations for things like that, but still.


End file.
